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Logs

Dwarves Never Lie

Tags: Bagurat,  Graim,  Grimbeorn

Short Summary: An angry Grimbeorn decides the dwarves' prisoner has outlived usefulness, and Graim settles the score.
Date (real-life): 2010-10-23
Scene Location: Erebor camp, edge of Beorning Village

Anduin Road, East of Village
This northern road passes across the Anduin River in the west and into the region known as Rhovanion, one of the wildest and most unsettled regions of Middle Earth. Far off in the distance a green line can be seen, Mirkwood forest looms towards the east, swallowing up the plain fields. The road's edge is paved with smoothed stones. To the west can be seen a fairly large village, abutting the beautiful lady Anduin. In the middle of that section of river can be seen a huge stone. The sunlight is too bright for your sensitive eyes. It is hard to make out much of anything.

The day sky still dumps copious amounts of rain down onto you. The late morning spring air is warm and humid around you. The moon is first quarter.

Contents:
Grimbeorn
Graim
Erebor Caravan
Beorning Campsite
Signpost
Obvious exits:
 West leads to Village Crossroads.
 SouthEast leads to Dirt Road through Open Plains.
 North leads to Open Plains.
 South leads to Meadow of Clover.


[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Late Morning on Trewsday, Day 4 of April.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 18:23:06 MDT on Sat Oct 23 2010.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
It is late morning over the encampment of dwarves, and the lingering smells of breakfast lie upon the air; but something else lingers far above: thick gray clouds that dump unrelenting rain. Puddles are everywhere, and outside a particular guarded wagon a sort of moat has begun to form from the downpour. The wagon itself is covered by a tent that is ripped along on edge. Within, sitting on the floor, is a pile of the torn fabric. Makeshift bandages it would seem, though they have remained untouched.

For a split second it might appear that the wagon is otherwise empty, but upon closer inspection 'tis not so; Bagurat has fetched herself up against one of its sideboards. With her back against the wooden wall, she is laying on her side, while her limbs are still bound together behind her in hogtie fashion. Currently, the orc is hard at work fiddling with the piece of rope that keeps her wrists attached to her ankles. As quietly as she may, she rubs and slides the section back and forth over a nail that pokes up from the wood. The cord has begun to fray slightly.


[Graim(#20753)]         The Dwarves are not idle, no. Some stand watch, some are working, others are sleeping, and one is walking towards the prison wagon, cloak and beard dripping from the rain. And this is not just any Dwarf, no; this is Graim the Younger of Dhurenfal, the one who is responsible for Bagurat's current situation.

        With a genial nod to the guards, he approaches the wagon. "So, are you awake in there, orc?" Inquires the Dwarf, glancing into the tent-covered wagon.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
A cursing hiss greets Graim, and Bagurat instantly stops what she is doing, attempting to keep the rope and nail out of view behind her back. "No," she blinks in mock seriousness. "I'm sleeping with my eyes open." The orc peers at his hands hopefully. "Bring more sausages this time? Or that dried food the other one gave me? Whatever that was."


[Graim(#20753)]         "Since when has it been my job to feed you?" Rumbles the Dwarf, eyebrow arching upwards for a brief second. "Be satisfied with what your guards give you. I certainly shall not waste our dwindling stock of meat upon you." That said, Graim clears his throat.

        "Time for you to be answering more questions, and I shall not be as gentle as the good silversmith when it comes to asking them."


[Bagurat(#24847)]
"They've only given me rotten bread," the shaman complains, flashing a frown of disappointment. At the Chief's following words, the expression only grows more unhappy.

"I've played your little question-games already. I don't want to have another round. Rather be far away from here."


[Graim(#20753)]         "Oh, your time with us is drawing to an end, do not worry. And then you where you shall be is... not very relevant, I would think," says the Chief, a grin flicking beneath his beard as a hand drops to rest upon his mace. "After all, you have something I want, and 'tis difficult to get when you are alive.

        "Now, onto more pressing matters. Perhaps you shall tell me when the next large push of you lot is going to be?"


[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
"WHAT...is THIS?" Grimbeorn makes no point of lowering his voice or disguising his anger as he approaches the caged orc. The one saving grace is that he can control his temper and he is not a bear. Yet.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Bagurat's narrowed yellow gaze darts warily to the mace, but she still gives Graim an obstinate defiant look. "You're not getting your orc-bone from me, if that's what you're planning. Plently more out there."

For his question, the witch-orc supplies, "The next advance is up to the Shrieker to decide. But soon I don't doubt, and then poof," her mouth contorts into a nasty grin. "There will be no more Elves once we're done." Her amusement swiftly vanishes however at the sudden yell, and she blinks out at the human.


[Graim(#20753)]         "So, you are not all that important, then?" Asks the Dhurenfal in return before he nods thoughtfuly, as if Bagurat may have a point. "Yes, but how many high-ranking orcs are there that I can take it from?" Returns Graim, that eyebrow twitching once more. Whatever else he might have to say, though, is prevented by the arrival of Grimbeorn.

        The Chief turns, raising a hand slightly. "Greetings, Laird. This here is a prisoner; one of the orc leaders, no less. I thought it would be... prudent... that we get any information out of it that we can before killing it."


[Grimbeorn(#22365)] Grimbeorn sniffs the air, glaring toward the orc, temper barely contained. "Prudent?" he growls. "You will believe anything that an agent of the enemy tells you? You hope to gain something other than tricks and death out of such...such a thing..? And...bringing THAT...HERE...." his growls are getting angrier.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
"No, not at all important," replies the bound orc, though it is difficult to tell if she is simply lying or not. "There are officers and captains back up north, with the rest of the army. Surely they'd be more suitable for you dagger hilt."

But when Graim addresses Grimbeorn, Bagurat's brow furrows. "Laird...? But...you said he had claws," despite the fact she's speaking to the dwarf, she is staring at the Man. She swallows before continuing, clearly becoming nervous by the increasing anger in his voice. "You said it was a bear. Lying to me to scare me where you?"


[Graim(#20753)]         "I never said I would belive it," replies Graim to Grimbeorn, frown twitching beneath his beard. "How much of a fool do you take Dwarves for, Laird? Information is information; true or false, it can lead to fact, even if 'tis only matching what the Elves have reported. Their home is under attack; I have no doubt they would go to any lengths to save it, even lying to us."

        He turns his attention briefly back to the orc. "I never said he had claws, Formin did. And Dwarves never lie."


[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
"Claws...if you wish you will meet them...yes, you will meet them," Grimbeorn growls, intent upon the orc. But a growl, too, is given toward the dwarf. "Information..this piece of filth will have such, you deem? " He starts pacing back and forth in front of the cage, irritated.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
While Beorning and dwarf converse, Bagurat seizes the temporary distraction to renew her rubbing of the rope over the exposed nail on the wagon's side. All the while the shaman watches the pair outside intently, and she keeps one ear cocked -- trying to listen to their words, and also to make certain the crude 'sawing' remains as quiet as can be.


[Graim(#20753)]         "It has spoken of some already, mainly in what they are doing here and who is leading them, some mysterious figure known only as 'Shrieker'," replies the Dhurenfal with a shrug as he turns back to the Laird. "Beyond that, we have yet to get much out of it, and I was waiting on killing it to see if you might have some questions you wish to ask."


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Back and forth, back and forth the rope is tugged, and the previous fraying increases.

And just as Graim offers his shrug to Grimbeorn, there is a distinct tearing sound, and Bagurat attempts to drown it out with a feigned cough. But alas, the success is only part of the way: while no longer hogtied now that the section of rope that connects her hands to her feet has snapped, the orc still has to get those hands in front of her. Slowly, carefully, Bagurat begins to curl up so she can wriggle her tied wrists down and over her legs.


[Graim(#20753)]         At the cough, Graim turns, frown twitching beneath the beard as he peers at the orc, hand briefly twitching down towards his mace. "Do not be trying anything, orc. Any 'curse' you likely cast will just inflict on you more than us, if your history in that area has anything to say." With a chuckle, he turns back to the Laird.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Freezing when the Chief glances back, Bagurat shoots him one of her usual glowers while trying to make it appear that her bindings are still completely intact. "I won't try a curse, don't worry," she says, growling at the chuckle.

The orc waits for a bit, then cautiously resumes her effort at slipping her hands over her legs. Bit by bit it works, and finally, giving a pant, she manages it: and the shaman pauses again, now peering down at her hands that are no longer stuck behind her back. Now they are in front of her.


[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
"Questions? No..other than this thing will lead us to its camp," Grimbeorn decides. "And if it does not, I shall break its neck." He steps forward menacingly as if he means to do that now.


[Graim(#20753)]         A brief frown twitches beneath the Dwarf's beard. "The Elves do not know where it is? Or they have not shared the information?" Still, he turns, chuckling quietly. "Hear that, orc? The Laird has a task for you."


[Bagurat(#24847)]
The orc's eyes flick from the rope, to the pair outside, and then back again as if she is judging how fast she would be able to bite free her hands and untie her ankles; and judging also how fast the dwarf and human can react.

Bagurat seems to decide against the risk for the moment, and instead she lays there in the wagon not moving nor concealing the fact she is no longer bound as she was previously. "I'm supposed to lead you back?" the shaman asks, watching the threatening shape of Grimbeorn.


[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
"Maybe not," Grimbeorn rumbles, staring at the orc. "I think, Master Dwarf, it is time to kill this filth. And get it off my lands. By daybreak, in fact." It might sound a bit like a threat.


[Graim(#20753)]         After a moment, the Dhurenfal shrugs again. "I suppose. Looks like it was not going to talk much more anyway." That said, the Chief Master Veteran draws his mace from his belt, eyes flicking to Bagurat. "Your fortune, if we may call it that, has run out. Time to die, orc, and time for me to have the final piece to my dagger."


[Bagurat(#24847)]
That seems to do it - Bagurat snarls in answer, and stuffs her clawed hands into her robes. When next they emerge, they are clasped tight about the hilt of a jagged dagger that has thus far remained hidden. "Time for something else, I deem," the shaman hisses.

Transfering the knife to her mouth, the orc tilts her head to begin hastily cutting through the cord binding her wrists.

COMBAT - Wielded: Sacrificial Dagger


[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
"There, dwarf," Grimbeorn growls loudly--a very bear-like sound suddenly. "There is the true nature of what you have captured. And I assume what you are about to dismiss from this world."


[Graim(#20753)]         The Dwarf snarls. "You shall not escape death this time, orc," rumbles Graim as he hastily climbs up into the prison wagon." He gives only a curt nod to the Laird before he swings the mace for Bagurat's head.


Graim attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he misses!


[Bagurat(#24847)]
The prisoner flinches at the bear-growl, and she moves to wriggle further away from that side of the wagon. There is another loud rip as the goblin-blade splits the rope, even as Graim climbs near and swings. Rolling away so that the mace bashes the edge of her robe, Bagurat shakes the broken coils from her hands and slashes at the Chief's foot. But hastily, with her free hand, she fumbles with the rope about her ankles.

You attack Graim with your Dagger...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
Graim dodges your attack.


[Graim(#20753)]         As proven in their last combat, Graim can be quick. Thus, his foot dances away from the orc's dagger and he simply gives a feral grin, teeth gleaming beneath his beard. "My boot you shall not ruin, orc," growls the Chief before swinging his mace again, this time at her legs.


Graim attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 5 hp's by Graim's attack...
...you have 49 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.


[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
A roar comes from the man, only there suddenly is no man there any more: Instead, a huge silver-tipped bruin now stands in Grimbeorn's place, the bear snorting loudly, pacing. Yet it holds off and lets the dwarf fight.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Bagurat grits her teeth as dwarven weapon connects with legs, and yet she tucks those legs upward at the same time, pulling the ankle-rope against the mace's head. The binding tears beneath a spike, and the orc starts to scramble to her feet.

"I wouldn't be satisfied only ruining your boot," the shaman growls to Graim. "Now, give the mask back --" the demand cuts off abruptly at the sudden sight of the bear, and Bagurat emits a startled yelp, but her dagger is already flying for the dwarf's weapon arm.

You attack Graim with your Dagger...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
Your attack against Graim mildly wounds him!


[Graim(#20753)]         A shallow cut along the hand is what comes from the Orc's dagger, and Graim scowls beneath his beard. "The mask is /mine/! And your bone shall join it!" With that, the Chief swings the mace at Bagurat's head again.


Graim attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 19 hp's by Graim's attack...
...you have 30 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.


[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
The bear holds its blows stills, but watches warily, growling under its breath as it paces.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Stumbling backward slightly, the witch-orc spits and wipes black blood onto her sleeve from the wound the mace has scored over the side of her face. "No!" is the only thing Bagurat says to Graim, ere she whirls about and swings her dagger to tear open the side of the tent covering the wagon.

[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
You forego your chance to attack.


[Graim(#20753)]         "No escaping for you," rumbles Graim, as he steps foward, swinging the mace in a powerful blow aimed at the orc's now exposed back.

        The commotion has caught the attention of the rest of the camp; many Dwarves lay hands on their weapons, but for now they do not move to assist.


Graim attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 10 hp's by Graim's attack...
...you have 20 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
The Chief's new attack does two things: it earns a fresh string of maledictions from the prisoner, but the force of the blow shoves her closer to the wagon's wall. Darting a frightened look to the pacing bear, Bagurat makes a final stab for the dwarf's arm, ere she claws her way through the tent rip and over the sideboard.

With a wet plop, the orc lands in the rainy mud surrounding the wagon.

You attack Graim with your Dagger...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
Your attack against Graim mildly wounds him!


[Graim(#20753)]         A lighter scratch than before, though the blade briefly slipped under the arm of the Dwarf's mail coat. A brief hiss of pain comes from Graim before he turns, making for the stairs leading down from the wagon and onto the muddy ground below before moving to the side the orc fell to.


ARB: Graim has "passed" on his turn to attack.


[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
As the orc escape, the bear finally springs into action--it bounds quickly around to try to cut off the orc's escape, though it appears to be letting the dwarf settle the score, still.

Grimbeorn attacks you with his Beijabar Fists!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 1 hp's by Grimbeorn's attack...
...you have 19 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Bagurat's throat gives a pained noise as the bear's claws catch her side, but she seems keener on getting away from it rather than trying to fight it. Once she has struggled to her feet, the witch-orc slips round again to seek a better chance of flight; but alas, Graim is approaching from the direction.

"Out of the way, gazat fool," she scowls, moving forward and slashing for the Chief again.

You attack Graim with your Dagger...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
Graim dodges your attack.


[Graim(#20753)]         A quick slip in the mud and Graim is out of the way of the orc dagger. "I am afraid I cannot do that, orc," rumbles the Dhurenfal in return. His mace is brought up and quickly swung at Bagurat's head once more.


Graim attacks you with his Mace!...
Defeated, you drop Sacrificial Dagger to the ground...
...and he hits! Ouch!
Darn! You've been knocked to 0 HP by Graim's attack!
You are critically wounded, and will die soon without a +HEAL'er.
See HELP COMBAT DEATH for more information. Good luck!


[Bagurat(#24847)]
A sickening crack proves the successful aim of the mace, and with an unpleasant shriek, Bagurat topples to the mucky ground. Her white ahir is a messy sight of black blood; no doubt there is a serious gash to the head beneath.

And moreso than a gash it would seem, for the orc does not get up again. "...curse you..all..smoke and ashes.." the shaman does manage to spit out, ere the dagger slips from her fingers and she lays still.


[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
The bear now takes a giant paw and pushes the orc's body, checking for movement or life. Not gently so, either. Then it looks up and growls something word-like at the dwarf.


[Graim(#20753)]         "If the curses of orcs were worth more than naught..." rumbles the Dwarf quietly as he looks down upon the now-dead orc. With a snort, he wipes the blood from the head of his mace on the orc's robes before sliding the weapon beneath his belt. "I told you I would get your bone. Dwarves never lie."

        He glances up at the bear as it growls, and the Dhurenfal tilts his head. "Eh?"


[Grimbeorn(#22365)]
The light shimmers or shifts, or the air around the bear, perhaps, and then there is a man before the dwarf once more, Grimbeorn again. "The body..off my lands. Burn the grass where the blood of this creature fell. Burn the filth of it all," he snaps angrily, turning to walk away.


[Graim(#20753)]         "Right you are, Laird," replies the Dwarf smoothly, gesturing to some of the Dwarves in the camp. "Come on, lads, we have work to do..."

 


Date added: 2010-10-24 01:06:08    Hits: 104
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